


GenderChanger

by thegrendel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, F/M, Gay Sex, Gender or Sex Swap, Lesbian Sex, M/M, North Korea, Nuclear Weapons, Other, Research, Sex Change, military secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:51:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrendel/pseuds/thegrendel
Summary: A small magic cube that instantly changes your gender, or anyone else's gender. Did it come out of the future? Out of another dimension? What mattered is that it worked, and Morrison could use it change himself into a woman and back. And later on, use it to change the world.





	GenderChanger

He pressed the blinking red button on the cube.

A luminous three-dimensional display popped up in mid-air. There were  
blocks of text in easy-to-read glowing green letters, and what looked  
like a side panel of multi-colored push-buttons. This had to be some  
kind of fancy hologram.
    
    
        Mark XXIV GenderChanger®
    
        Choose an Option:
        [1] PARTIAL CHANGE (genitalia only, secondary sex characteristics
            unaffected)
        [2] COMPLETE CHANGE (down to the cellular level, and inclusive of
            chromosomes and germ plasm) *
        [3] ADVANCED MODALITIES
        [4] HELP SCREEN (option currently selected)
    
      * WARNING: Gender change /male-to-female/ renders user
        subject to menstruation, pregnancy, and associated
        inconveniences and medical risks.
        Refer to publication 2Y8246-03.
    
    
        Usage instructions (simplified):
        [1] Select change mode (PARTIAL or COMPLETE).
        [2] Select RANGE/FOCUS . *
        [3] TIMER SCREEN will appear.
            Set timer for duration of change (30 minutes - 100 years).
        [4] Press (red flashing) EXECUTE button.
    
      * NOTE: The default {0/0} (0 meters range / 0 degrees deflection)
        setting operates on an effective radius of 0.4 meter.
    
    
        Features:
        [1] Baseline gender of target(s) autodetected.
        [2] Autorevert to baseline gender at expiration of timer setting.
        [3] Changes may be manually reversed by repeat operation of
            GenderChanger®.
    
      * ADVISORY: Use of this device is restricted to authorized personnel.
    
    
        Patents pending.
    

It had to be a hoax. An exceptionally clever hoax, but still a hoax.

Orville Morrison was pulling the midnight-to-eight shift, assigned to  
monitoring the main instrument console in the control room. His job was to  
log any unusual happenings, and if necessary, contact the watch officer  
on the intercom. Just before dawn he'd heard a shrieking whistle, then  
a loud pop just on the other side of the vault-like door to the linear  
accelerator chamber. He pulled open the access hatch to check, and there  
was this small shiny object sitting on the floor. It was a 1" silver-metal  
cube with a blinking red button protruding from its top surface.

Rumor had it that artifacts occasionally winked into existence in  
nuclear bombardment chambers at energies exceeding 100 billion electron  
volts. Apparently, random combinations of powerful magnetic fields and  
gamma ray bursts from high-energy particle collisions could tear a hole  
in the space-time fabric -- and this sometimes sucked various "objects"  
out of alternate universes or sidewise dimensions. The net effect was  
that Things From Elsewhere mysteriously materialized. Some wit had dubbed  
it the Reverse Bermuda Triangle Effect.

Morrison was an involuntary test subject. He had been demobilized and  
shipped back from Saigon after spouting off to his commanding officer  
in a drunken outburst that there was no way in hell the "police action"  
in Viet Nam could be won. It was LBJ's fucking war, Morrison had said,  
and he could damn well figure out a way to clean up the mess he'd  
created. Hastily bounced from the combat theater and threatened with  
brig time and a dishonorable discharge if he didn't cooperate, Morrison  
had been assigned to the U.S. Army reservation surrounding the Jarvis  
Rivermore labs as a technician-observer. This meant that, for all his  
Army Corps of Engineering training and experience, he was nothing but  
an expendable guinea pig. For all practical purposes, a prisoner.

Damn it! He'd done the full ROTC bit and come out of school with a  
second looey's commission. Had helped bulldoze roads through the jungle  
to keep supplies flowing to Ranger outposts and their alleged allies,  
the ARVN support troops. Had done a tour of duty and put his ass on the  
line for his country. But the friggin' Cong were still winning the war,  
and they'd keep right on winning the way things were going. Only a fool  
or a rear-echelon officer or a politician would think otherwise. Yeah,  
sure, and only a fool would speak his mind to a superior officer in this  
enlightened year of Our Lord, 1966. And Lord help us all.

The mystery cube was a GenderChanger, huh? Morrison had heard the  
stories about Christine Jorgenson, the weirdo who had gone gallivanting  
off to Sweden for a sex-change operation. Had his dong sliced off and  
an artificial pussy excavated between his legs. If the guy was a freak  
before the surgery, he was a double-damned freak afterwards. As if you  
could really change your sex.

Well, even if this was a hoax, he was curious. And he had little to lose.  
He'd already been cashiered out of the army under threat of court  
martial and blackmailed into being a closely-guarded lab rat. And he'd  
just now smuggled this gender-gadget out of the Institute lab and into  
his room. That was probably enough to earn him a twenty-year sentence  
at a very unpleasant place surrounded by guard towers and barbed wire.  
Fuck it. What did he owe the army assholes running this place, anyway?  
Nothing.

Morrison pressed [2] COMPLETE CHANGE, then set ONE HOUR on the timer  
screen. He took a deep breath, then punched the EXECUTE button. There  
was a momentary beep and the display vanished. So, _that_ was it?  
It really _was_ a hoax. Ha, ha, very funny.

All at once his skin began itching fiercely all over and he felt a  
powerful urge to urinate. Damn, he wasn't sure he could hold it in long  
enough to get to the bathroom down the hall. He sighed with relief as  
he unzipped his fly. _There was something missing down there._  
Something very important.

HIS DICK WAS GONE! What the fuck was going on???

He had gender-changed himself, that was what was goin on. Default  
RANGE/FOCUS setting of {0/0} had affected his own body! He was well and  
truly fucked.

Damn. He was starting to wet himself. But how? Hot urine was trickling  
down the insides of his thighs. He tore open his pants and ripped down  
his underwear. THERE WAS A FUCKING HOLE BETWEEN HIS LEGS!

Emptying his bladder was an enormous relief. Or maybe _her_ bladder.  
Orville Morrison was a woman, or seemed to have the body of a woman  
anyhow. Sitting down to piss (or _pee_ , as the girls would say),  
was something he (she!) wasn't used to. And there was a whole lot else  
(s)he wasn't used to, either.

Breasts! They weren't all that big, as female breasts go, but they  
protruded and they were soft. The nipples were pretty sensitive, too.  
And below the waist the hips flared out. And that ass! It had become  
rounded, maybe even pear-shaped. Morrison had always been partial to women  
with padded, pear-shaped asses, and now (s)he _was sitting on one_.

Someone was banging on the bathroom door. "You gonna be done pretty soon,  
Orv?"

Damn. It was his roommate, Carlos. They shared this one bathroom, along  
with the two other guys down the hall.

"Wait -- " Damn. His (her) voice was breaking. It seemed to have slipped  
into a higher register. Shit! Every part of him (her) must have gone  
female.

"Wait!" Morrison croaked it out of the back of the throat to make it  
sound more masculine. "I've got the shits. Got 'em bad. It could be a  
while. Probably a good long while. Use the upstairs bathroom, would you?"

"Fuck you, man. If I piss my pants, you get to buy me a new pair.  
Asshole." There was the sound of retreating footsteps.

Forty minutes had gone by since Morrison had pressed the damn blinking  
button. Wait out the rest of the hour locked in the bathroom and hope  
everything went back to normal. No sweat. But meanwhile . . .

Hey, might as well do a little, well, exploring. Morrison reached a hand  
down below, down there. . . . There was a little nubbin right there,  
right about where it ought to be, right at the top of the slit. Ah, yes,  
that was the clit. And it felt good. Rubbing it felt real nice. And the  
hole was starting to, well, get wet. Might just stick a finger in there  
and see how that goes. Interesting sensation.

Itching. His skin itched all over. What was that? The hole was closing  
up and his dick was starting to grow back. What a relief! And yep,  
by his watch the hour was just about up. He was turning back into a man.

 

So, what now? He had this fantastic magic cube that could change a  
man into a woman, and presumably vice versa, but of what use was it  
to him? Just having it in his possession would probably get him in a  
mess of trouble. Even doing the "right thing" and giving it up to his  
supervisor likely wouldn't help. Just his knowledge of its existence  
put him in jeopardy. People who knew things they weren't supposed to  
know had a habit of disappearing. Permanently.

Escape! He had to get out of this place. In four days he was due for his  
next "furlough" off the military reservation, accompanied by a guard,  
of course. Fuck that. He wasn't about to let them strip-search him and  
maybe find the cube secreted in a body cavity. And he wasn't going to  
try and hide it in his quarters, which were methodically searched at  
unpredictable intervals. So what did that leave? Walking out of the base  
right under the noses of the guards . . . as a woman.

The female soldiers had a barracks of their own. Later that night Morrison  
got into the storage room of that barracks by removing a screen from a  
back window using just a screwdriver. Piss-poor security.

The faint beam from his penlight showed a row of locker doors. Now,  
it was a matter of finding a uniform that would more or less fit him  
and maybe getting some cash and ID.

 

Early the following morning, Sgt. Naomi DuPlessis showed her  
identification to the sentry at the gate. He waved her through, staring  
appreciatively at her well-proportioned ass as she walked away. Nicely  
pear-shaped it was.

The leather purse had $24 and change in it. Enough to buy  
Morrison/DuPlessis a bus ticket to San Durango and a sandwich, but that  
was about it.

"Can you help me? I've been having severe abdominal cramps, and . . . "

"I'm sorry, Miss, but if you don't have an appointment -- "

At that, the woman burst into tears, and if there was one thing that  
could melt the heart of old Doc Keldysh, family practitioner, it was a  
crying woman. A very attractive crying woman.

"Let me show you where it hurts." She was unbuttoning her blouse. The  
good doctor barely had time to notice that it was an army uniform blouse  
with sergeant's chevrons on the sleeves before his attention was riveted  
by the bare breast peeking out. Such a nicely formed mammary it was, too.

"Now, look here, ma'am," the doctor said. "I couldn't possibly -- "

Then she was on him, smothering his trembling lips with burning kisses  
and groping between his legs. He collapsed onto the floor with her on  
top of him. He was lost.

Getting fucked wasn't all that big a deal, Morrison decided, glancing at  
the gray-haired old man snoring on the vinyl sofa in the waiting room.  
Well, playtime's over. Time to acquire some resources.

The doc's wallet held $473, some business cards, and a small address book.  
That should be more than enough to get to the east coast.

Time to change back into a man; it was safer to travel that way.  
Morrison had by now gotten quite adept at using the cube.

Orelia Morrison heard the cries of pain on the other side of the wall.  
The man was beating his wife again. It was painful to listen to,  
especially since Orelia, formerly Orville, had gained an in-depth  
appreciation of the kind of shit a woman had to put up with at the  
hands of an abuser. A few months back, she had been given a ride by a  
trucker, then overpowered and raped repeatedly in a motel room later that  
night. Said trucker had subsequently fallen asleep, which had allowed  
his victim to exact an interesting sort of revenge. Said trucker woke up  
the next morning, bound hand and foot, with semen seeping from vagina  
and anus. Said trucker would would later turn out to be pregnant with  
triplets, and the subject of lurid stories in the supermarket tabloids.

That asshole next door had beaten his wife for the last time. From the  
sound of drunken snoring, apparently the exertion of wife beating had  
exhausted him and he was out like a light. All right, now to set things  
to rights. After selecting COMPLETE CHANGE, 1-5/180 RANGE/FOCUS, and  
10 YEARS on the menu, Orelia aimed the cube at the wall and pressed the  
EXECUTE button. For the next decade, the man would be learning very some  
hard lessons about life. And from personal experience, Orelia knew that  
there was nothing like being penetrated to teach a man that he wasn't  
the lord of creation.

 

The visiting room at the State Penitentiary is a depressing place.  
A reinforced wire barrier separates inmates from free citizens.

"So, you say you're from some victims' rights group? Why should I give  
a flying fuck? Unless, maybe, you could get me out of this shithole,  
huh? An' yeah, there'd be something in it for you too, honey. I know  
how to show a woman a good time, you betcha, I do."

"Now, Mr. Smith, what we're looking for from you is some expression of  
remorse, a statement that you're sorry you assaulted all those women,  
and . . . "

"Yer barkin' up the wrong tree, slut. Less'n maybe you want I should do  
for _your_ pretty ass, too. And I'm tellin' you I won't be sorry  
after, an' neither will you. C'mere and gimme a kiss-kiss, ya FUCKIN'  
CUNT!"

"My word! I happen to be a respectable lady, and you should really show  
proper respect. I assure you that you'll find ample cause to regret your  
uncouth behavior. You see, I happen to have a magic cube that will teach  
you manners and assist in your rehabilitation."

"Magic cube, my ass!"

His ass, indeed. By judicious experimentation, Orville/Orelia had  
discovered a periodic-repeat setting in the ADVANCED options menu.  
Inmate Smith would awaken in the early hours of the following morning  
to discover _herself_ inhabiting a voluptuous female body. The  
other occupants of the cell would no doubt find that very interesting,  
not to mention entertaining.

Smith would learn what it felt like to be a victim. Involuntarily  
shapeshifting into a voluptuous woman between the hours of 1:00 a.m. and  
3:00 a.m., only to revert to one's original male body for the remaining  
22 hours of the day might be a traumatic experience for anyone. For  
a convicted serial rapist in a maximum security penal institution,  
it would be a survival test. A survival test that would repeat every  
single night for the next ten years.

 

Over the years, Morrison had come up with some very entertaining uses  
for the cube. He had, for his own amusement, set out to answer the  
age-old question of whether sex was better for a man or a woman. In the  
Orelia body/identity, she had taken both male and female lovers. Most  
male lovers, she had found, were essentially clumsy oafs who hadn't the  
faintest notion of how to pleasure a partner. Female lovers were usually  
more sensitive and knowledgeable, and, on balance, lesbian love was a  
more sensual experience. Morrison came to the tentative conclusion that  
when sex was good, really good, that a female body had the physical  
capacity to enjoy it more than a male one. But when sex was bad, the  
woman suffered while the man got at least physical release from it.

Once, just once, Orelia had taken on two men at the same time. Double  
penetration turned out to be more trouble than it was worth. It  
required carefully choreographed positioning of assorted limbs and  
organs and orifices. And it turned out that having cocks up both pussy  
and ass simultaneously was a kaleidoscope of awkward thrashing around,  
vaginal-rectal fullness, now-pleasurable, now-irritating friction,  
intermittent pain, fleeting moments of near-ecstasy, inconvenient  
distractions, conflicting emotions, and sensory overload. It was a fruit  
salad of clashing sounds and smells, sensations, and secretions. It was  
also quite messy to clean up after. Dealing with the emotional baggage  
of two easily-bruised male egos was no picnic either.  
One of Morrison's most fulfilling liaisons was with a man. What was  
unusual about it was that he remained in the original Orville-vintage  
male body for the entire six-year duration of the relationship. It was  
a straightforward homosexual affair -- nothing fancy -- but smoking-hot  
sensual all the same. It was purely and simply about ass-fucking, with  
each of them alternating as top and bottom, as the mood happened to  
take them. There was something profoundly moving about sharing same-sex  
flesh with a lover, and after the first few weeks together it was totally  
immaterial who did the inserting and who was inserted into. It just went  
to show, Orville mused, that if two people were in tune with each other,  
then the physical details didn't much matter.

Then there was the time he fell hard for Chastity Chastaine. She was a  
department store heiress, a moderately successful actress, and the proud  
owner of a beautifully-developed body, with a mind to match. Orville,  
it turned out, was a smash hit as a companion and dinner partner,  
but couldn't quite satisfy her physically. Orelia had somewhat better  
luck. Chastity never did catch on that she was cheating on her lover  
with the selfsame lover, and so it wasn't really cheating at all.

 

Over the years Morrison had revealed his secret to only one person.  
Corliss Marlowe was a former field operative for the National Security  
Bureau. In the aftermath of a political shakeup, she had been forcibly  
retired under "adverse circumstances," so she shared Orville's bitterness  
about anything concerned with government agencies. Corliss was  
intelligent, empathetic, and she knew how to keep her lips zipped. She  
also had a nicely-contoured body. In the natural course of events, they  
became lovers.

After several months, the passion had pretty much burned itself out,  
but by that time the two of them were completely at ease with one  
another. They were best friends and confidantes. It seemed a shame  
to give up the closeness that only physical intimacy brings to a  
relationship. Corliss was the one who proposed that they both change  
gender and continue as a male-female couple.

As usual, having a lover's penis deep in her pussy (and betimes her ass)  
brought Orelia a sense of completion and inner peace. But Corliss  
remained restless.

They tried it as female-female lovers, then as male-male. Each had its  
own peculiar attractions. Once, when Orville and a male Corliss had  
finished mutual ass play (ah, the delights of sodomy), they just sat  
and looked into each other other's eyes for hours, not saying a word.  
It was as if they were Siamese twins, sharing both body and soul.

Of course, it couldn't last. They were too much alike. The arguments  
became more frequent and, at times, nearly violent. One morning, Corliss  
was gone. There was no note.

 

As the years passed, Morrison spent more and more time as Orelia. Being  
a woman provided a broader perspective on things, and the physical and  
hormonal makeup of the female body gave the mind a far greater depth of  
emotion, of _feeling_ , of capacity for connecting with fellow humans  
of either sex. Women were more complex creatures than men in all the  
important ways.

 

It was hard to believe that almost five decades had gone by. Morrison  
was a senior citizen with a full-grown daughter. When she nursed from  
Orelia's breasts for the first time, only the name Athena would do,  
in memory of the original Athena who had sprung from the brow of the  
Greek deity Zeus. Orville/Orelia was both father and mother to the child.

It's not all that difficult to self-impregnate with your own genetic  
material when you can provide the seed, the egg and the womb. Orville  
had masturbated into a paper cup, then moments later Orelia used a turkey  
baster to inseminate herself. Nine months later, Athena happened.

And now it appeared that it was all in jeopardy. All of it. Human  
civilization, and humankind, might have only scant hours to live. The  
SKANK ultimatum was about to expire, and then the missiles would fly.

Who could have predicted that Somalia would team up with Kazakhstan,  
Afghanistan, and North Korea in a deadly outlaw alliance given to  
nuclear blackmail? Who could have known that SKANK-sponsored terrorist  
acts would tip the balance toward total war? Who could have forecast  
the proliferation of unstoppable delivery systems for mini-nukes?

Morrison felt a sense of destiny. Perhaps this was why he had been fated  
to discover the GenderChanger. Perhaps he had been intended to save the  
world. Perhaps . . .

Modern nuclear devices were all fourth-generation "smart" weapons. That  
meant that their triggering mechanisms were biometrically keyed, and  
only a small group of "authorized" individuals could activate them. The  
biometric safeguard depended solely on genetic identification. The DNA  
of the triggermen had to match the sequence that had been scanned into  
the computer chips controlling the detonators of the bombs.

Had to match! If an "authorized" individual had his gender changed, then  
the DNA sequence would no longer match. The 48th chromosome determines  
biological sex, and, if that flipped over, _there could be no match_.  
It was the only thing that might yet rescue humanity from fiery  
annihilation.

He set the RANGE/FOCUS of the GenderChanger to 500,000,000 meters / 360  
degrees. This should take in every person on earth, and in the orbiting  
space stations and on the moon base as well. Every human being alive  
would undergo an involuntary sex change. In the span of a couple of  
minutes, males would become females, and vice-versa. It would cause  
major disruption, and possibly chaos and anarchy for a good while,  
but the human race would survive.

How long should the change last? If only a few weeks or months, then  
humankind would revert to its old habits of destruction and war. All  
right, then. He set the timer to its maximum, 100 years. Every man,  
woman, and child would live out their life span as a member of the  
opposite sex. It should be quite interesting.

Morrison smiled grimly, then pressed the EXECUTE button.

**Author's Note:**

> The GenderChanger cube exists. I've seen the documentation. Sure, it's locked in a vault somewhere in a secret government laboratory, but how long can you keep a secret like that?


End file.
